


Clearing the Board

by Domoz



Series: Postscripts [1]
Category: Critical Hit (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon, Season 6 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:40:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26162788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Domoz/pseuds/Domoz
Summary: Orem and Sekhar sail with the Eventide Regent, away from Waypoint towards an unknown future. Of course the ship sails all people to their  destinies, not just the two of them.
Series: Postscripts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1899883
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Clearing the Board

The Eventide Regent sailed away from Waypoint with Sekhar at the helm. Orem stood at the prow, eyes unfocused somewhere on the horizon. The events of the past day- past…  _ did it matter how long, with time broken down how it was-  _ weighed on him in a way he wasn't sure how to explain.

It was over. Unarguably the largest, most impactful adventure he had ever been on was over. And he wasn't so sure it had resolved for the better. Randus seemed at peace with his fate, but that didn't mean Orem was. The last person who had been with him since the beginning, who had been with him since the moon, was gone. 

He had started to warm up from that cold feeling of abandonment, if only a little, but all  _ this _ was too soon, and he could feel it creeping back even as he told himself this wasn't the same. Little Sparkle had her own life to live, and Sekhar was still here, just as clueless as he was.

And Ket…

Orem sighed, and not for the first time. He wanted to say Ket had gotten what he wanted in the end, but he wasn't sure the thing in the room at the end of it all  _ was _ Ket. His little robotic lizard, curled up and powered down in his cabin, was meant to go to his brother. How to explain what he became to his family?  Personal feelings about the man aside - not that Orem had ever really figured out what those feelings  _ were _ \- a god that was some fusion of him, the god of tyranny, and the goddess of death was worrying at the  _ very _ least.  Maybe he would be better than the sum of his parts, but more likely Orem wouldn't know for a long time, if ever, what the legacy of that would be.

He reached up to brush hair away from his face as he turned back to look at Sekhar. He had been taking this hard in a different way, crying on and off without ever bothering to wipe away the blood that streamed down his face. He seemed to have himself under control now and at least had the focus to straighten himself up as Orem walked across the deck towards him. 

"It’s my turn, go get some rest," he said, reaching up to take the wheel as gently as he could. Sekhar blinked and stared at him for a long moment before letting his shoulders drop, heaving a sigh of his own.

"Come get me if we wind up anywhere too strange?"

Orem nodded and stepped in front of the wheel as Sekhar let it go. He waited for the man to be below decks before leaning over the wheel to speak to the deck of the ship.

"I hope you know where we're going, because I have no clue."

* * *

On the fourth day at sea Orem was starting to become convinced that the ship didn't know where they were going, either.

Sekhar paced the deck while Orem stood at the helm.

"Perhaps…" Sekhar started for what must have been the third time, "It wants us to do something out  _ here. _ "

He gestured out to the astral sea, which was as dark and featureless as ever.

_ " _ Maybe." Orem agreed dryly, "Maybe it just thinks we need a break."

Orem did not want a break. He had grown accustomed to finding distractions for himself rather than being alone with his thoughts - but this wasn't some crystal where he could wander down endless hallways and get himself lost. When he tried on the ship he would always be directed right back out of the door to the upper deck. The only thing waiting for him  _ there _ was Sekhar, and if the Regent wanted Orem to do something with him, it wasn't clear what.

"Hm." 

Sekhar paused only for a moment before resuming his pacing across the deck. He gave off the energy of a caged animal, and while Orem didn't doubt he was going through some very similar thoughts, it mostly served to build an annoyance fueled headache behind his eyes. 

"Sekhar," Orem managed to keep his voice from sounding too terse, "Come take the wheel. I'm going below deck."

Sekhar nodded and came over right away to take the helm. He must have known full well that Orem had nothing to do down there, but didn't want to lose the chance at his own small distraction, so he didn't ask. 

Orem walked back across the deck himself and was half-way down the stairs to the cabins when he hesitated, hand lingering on the wall. There was, of course, the possibility that Sekhar was correct, and the ship was trying to make them do something out here. The only other thing on the ship was Sekhar himself. Maybe the man was taking things harder than he let on. It would be just his luck that Orem was expected to deal with that, but at the same time, there was a feeling of shame. If that  _ was  _ why they were still here he shouldn't have let it wait this long-

Orem was snapped from his thoughts by the loud  _ thunk  _ of something hitting the hull of the ship.

_ Or  _ it wanted them to fight some kind of monster out here. Which was, perhaps, preferable. 

His hand flew to his sword as he spun around and stepped lightly back on deck, seeing Sekhar do the same on the other side of the ship.

The creature that they had hit wasn't clear at first, it was like the astral sea had a life of its own, a long tendril curling up over the side of the ship. When it touched the Regent the sea started to peel away from something underneath, smaller tendrils sliding back into the ocean. When it was all gone, there, blinking in the afternoon light, was Ket.

Well, not Ket, but the thing he had become. He had the same face as the man Orem once knew, but he was larger, there were the blue skin and horns. He had traded out the coat with the gambling symbols for a high collared shirt and an eclectic collection of jewelry.

No one moved for a long moment, then Not-Ket looked from Sekhar to Orem and back and smiled.

"What a coincidence to find you out here," his voice was still Ket's, too, "Or maybe not, considering the boat."

He tapped one foot on the deck to punctuate his statement and opened up his arms in a way that was probably meant to be inviting.

Orem cast a glance at Sekhar, whose eyebrows were creased in concern. With another slight glance at the god on their ship, he slowly nodded, and in the same movement both of them stood up straight, hands still on swords but for the moment no one was threatening to draw.

The god smiled again and brought his hands together.

"Good, good. I actually wanted to apologize for my rude behavior towards you before. I was still getting my bearings, but that's no reason to ignore you like I did."

Orem could see Sekhar glance at him again from the corner of his eye but he was too stunned to acknowledge it. This…  _ thing _ looked like Ket, and sounded like him, but its way of movement and speaking wasn't similar in the least, and the dissonance between those things somehow made Orem feel ill.

With no clear signal from Orem, Sekhar cleared his throat, "That's quite alright, but what are you doing out here?"

The god smiled again and brought his hands together.

"I was actually looking for something. Both in a broad and a granular sense. You see-" he brought one finger up to point generally upwards "- Gods are supposed to get stars, but I haven't. I thought at first that maybe I just don't get one, but it occurred to me that even the god of travel gets one so I think I should as well. And I puzzled over it for a bit and I might have an idea."

He paused as if waiting for them to respond, but when neither of them offered more than a blank stare he continued on anyway as if they had.

"When I was... for lack of a better term, born, most of the souls that went into me were bits and pieces. There were only two whole ones and of those ones, one was already a god so I don't think it would cause any problems. Which means the issue, I  _ think, _ is with some unfinished business the mortal soul had. And as luck would have it, you used to know that soul, if I'm not mistaken. So since fate has brought us together like this it seems like it makes sense if I asked for your help."

It took Orem a long moment to swallow and gather his thoughts. Sekhar did it faster and spoke up first.

"That's... quite a lot to take in all at once. Would you... mind if we discussed?"

"Oh not at all, take your time."

Moving perhaps a bit too fast to be polite, Sekhar strode across the deck, grabbing Orem by the wrist and pulling him along until they were back below decks.

"Um." Said Orem, finally gathering his thoughts, "We're not doing this, are we? That  _ thing _ is the result of Asmodeus' schemes, I don't think anything good can come from helping it."

Sekhar's expression fell from severe to somber.

"It's also H'zard. Or what's left of him, if what he said is to be believed." Sekhar's shoulders fell even as Orem felt his tense up. "Consider the god of justice wound up as a mischievous little fox. I don't know if whatever he is now is what either of them used to be."

They both paused and looked up the stairs where the god was waiting for them. 

"I don't like this... But I don't see that we have much of a choice anyway."

"Perhaps we should see this as an opportunity to guide a new god into being something good?"

"Hm.” Orem considered. He wasn’t certain that he bought that theory, but it would be nice to believe. “What do you think the unfinished business  _ is?” _

Sekhar shrugged, eyes still fixed on the door, “You knew him longer than I. You don’t know?”

“...No. The only thing that comes to mind is the familiar he left behind.”

Sekhar frowned.

“It’s the only thing that came to my mind as well. I suppose we’ll have to work with it.”

Orem sighed and made the short journey down the hallway to his cabin. He had placed the lizard in the middle of his unused bed and it had remained there, seemingly inert ever since. When he lifted it up there was a slight whirring from some mechanical device inside of it - one of the lizard’s eyes slid open and the machine tilted its head to examine him for just a moment before it shifted its segmented body into a more compact position and snapped its eyes shut again.

“If I wanted a familiar I would have gotten one of my own by now,” he muttered to it. That was the most response he had gotten out of the thing since it had been handed to him. But, it wasn’t meant for him anyway, it was meant for Ket’s family, or perhaps even the god waiting for them above.

Orem turned back outside to see that Sekhar had made his way up the stairs and was peeking around the edge of the door to catch a glimpse of the thing before stepping out again. He quietly stepped up behind and bent around him to follow his gaze.

Instead of patiently waiting, the god had apparently gotten distracted, and had squatted down to look intently at the deck of the ship. That was puzzling, but at least not immediately alarming so Orem looked up at Sekhar and nodded his head, and the two stepped back out onto the deck, the god’s eyes snapping up immediately to track them as they walked. When Orem stopped he smiled again and leaned back until he was sitting on the deck, then pointed one long finger at the lizard in Orem’s hands.

“I take that as a good sign. You’ve decided to help?”

Orem nodded, then held out the lizard.

“This was the only unfinished business we could think of. You - The mortal part of you - told us to bring it to your family and to protect them.”

The god leaned forward slightly and squinted at the familiar but made no move to take it. He frowned.

“Did he?”

That simple question somehow made a wave of dread wash over Orem.

“You don’t remember?”

The god shook his head. 

“I’m still sorting through things. I have knowledge, but memories are a little tougher. I was hoping you’d have something that would call one up right away, but...”

He pulled his hand back and lazily leaned back onto the railing of the ship.

“Well, I didn’t think I’d even get lucky enough to find you so I suppose I shouldn’t hope for too much so soon.”

Orem let his hands fall. Normally he tried to be as respectful to gods as he could manage but this was quickly becoming difficult.

“You’re  _ sure _ it’s not this?”

“Not  _ sure,  _ but I feel confident that I’ll know what to do when I see it. And I don’t.”

“Well I don’t know what else to tell you. If he- if you had-” He paused to take a breath as his emotions mounted, “If Ket had any other unfinished business he didn’t share it with us.”

The god simply nodded.

“Me neither. But you’re my best lead to figuring it out I think, so I hope you don’t mind if I stick around.”

It was all Orem could do to not physically let his jaw drop. Of  _ course _ he minded, but without knowing the consequences for saying so he instead stayed silent.

Sekhar, a little more diplomatic, cleared his throat.

“If that’s the case, what should we call you?”

The god blinked, the idea that he would even  _ have _ a name apparently totally unexpected.

“I… Don’t know. I guess I have to figure that out too.”

* * *

  
  


The god didn’t take a cabin. Instead, he lounged around above decks - strange yellow eyes always following whoever was up there with him. When asked why he wouldn’t go below, he would simply say that he didn’t know Uranko well enough, and didn’t want to make an enemy of him by taking advantage. He seemed to be comfortable at least, but that may just be because he wasn’t able to  _ be  _ uncomfortable.

His presence made things...  _ Tense _ . If he wasn’t staring someone down he was fiddling with the wood of the boat or staring at some distant point over the astral sea. 

He was constantly moving, too. Not pacing, but in little ways, head tilting like he was trying to hear something, eyes always flicking from one thing to the other. In a way, he reminded Orem of Sekhar - he seemed like a predator always looking out for something to hunt.

Ket had always been nosy, but this god was far more obvious about it than the man had ever been. If it wasn’t his turn to steer Orem tended to stay off the upper deck just to avoid the inevitable questions.

“Where did you get the robe?” “What about the sword?” And every answer led to more questions on tiny details that Orem couldn’t possibly remember.

All that aside it was all just too  _ strange _ . His voice was Ket’s but the words were not. The man Orem had known for years was gone but at the same time there he was, staring him in the face every day. He wouldn’t say he  _ missed  _ Ket but the constant reminder of his fate - as well as the frustration of interacting with this god - was quickly wearing on him.

It had been two weeks since they had left Waypoint, 10 days since finding the god,  _ and _ the Eventide Regent still sailed only on the astral sea, giving no clue as to where they were headed.

It was Orem’s turn at the helm on a cool night; the god had been mostly quiet, leaning over the rails, eyes flicking back and forth following some unseen current in the astral sea. There was nothing much else for Orem to look at so he found his gaze constantly drifting back to...  _ Ket. _

He probably knew it too, because every now and then the god would glance up at him and Orem would snap his gaze away somewhere else, heat rising to his face like he was embarrassed at having been caught. It was the third time this had happened when finally the god just turned to him with a quizzical eyebrow raised.

“What are you thinking about?” It was still not Ket, the question asked too easily with no real intention behind the words.

But if Orem had learned one thing about this god it was that he loved to talk, so he grabbed at the easy opportunity to ask a question.

“Do you have  _ any _ of his memories? Ket’s, I mean.” As if he even had to clarify.

The god looked amused for a moment before his expression sank into something more thoughtful.

“A few. Sometimes. Compared to most he didn’t live so long so it’s harder to pick them out just from the volume of it all, but at the same time they feel…” he circled a hand around in the air as though he was searching for the word there, “Important? Precious?”

_He didn’t live so long_. The easy way he said that brought a lump to Orem’s throat that he forced himself to swallow down. Of course with Ket living the way he did things were bound to end up like this for him sooner or later.

“But because there’s so little,” the god continued on with apparently little thought for if Orem was actually paying attention, “It’s easier to see them through someone else.”

Orem listened quietly, almost thoughtfully as the god stumbled through the half-remembered story of what was apparently how Ket had gotten the soul of the Raven Queen. She had been the first to understand that things were changing, and she had been planning it for years and years, unsure if that part of her soul would be a punishment or a gift for whoever received it. And Ket had made it easy, because to him it would be both.

“He didn’t have a clue what she was doing until the game was over,” the god laughed, “He did always seem easy to manipulate like that.”

That laugh jolted Orem out of his own head. A reminder both that this wasn’t a eulogy and that the man from the story wasn’t even entirely dead. The lump rose back into his throat but this time it was easier to pretend that this one was there out of anger.

“What is Ket to you, anyways?” Orem tried not to sound too biting but it slipped out and the god noticed, tilting his head to the other side in consternation.

“I mean, he  _ is _ me. Sort of. Like a foundation that the rest of me is built on. Which is why I think he’s the one causing me this problem,” he sighed, “I guess  _ was _ is the better way to put it. Was me.  _ I’m _ me, now.”

Orem did not like that answer much, but he simply nodded and kept his face as still as he could. But the god blinked and stood up straight and walked over to him. It was easy to forget just how large he was, towering over Orem from even the deck below the wheel.

All at once, Orem felt…  _ fear _ . He hadn’t realized he had been holding on to the hope that Ket was in there somewhere, but he had been, and that had made him feel more comfortable around this  _ creature _ than he should have been. He was a  _ god _ . If, right now, he decided he wanted Orem dead - and there was no guarantee he wouldn’t - he would probably succeed.

But the god’s expression was not one of anger. It was… Orem didn’t know. Tired. Soft. Sorrowful. Totally unreadable and yet there was so much Orem wanted to see there. 

“I’m not him. But he’s not gone either.”

He reached out and placed a hand ever so carefully on Orem’s shoulder; Orem, frozen in place, made no move to stop him. Then the god smiled and turned away, walking back across the deck to his spot at the railing. 

Orem didn’t look at him for the rest of his shift, nor did the god look up at him. Which was probably for the best; he certainly wouldn’t have been able to answer any questions about his face being wet. 

* * *

Sekhar seemed to be handling things well enough, all things considered. When the god started asking him questions he would bounce back with questions of his own, and often when Orem would wander his way up on deck he would find the two engaged in some deep conversation about the nature of existence or divinity.

Despite his realization some nights before, Orem  _ had  _ started to grow more comfortable around him. Time would make the strangest of things become normal, even if that thing was a large blue god who resembled a dead man living on the deck of your ship. But the god also seemed careful not to do anything too harsh to remind them of the difference between his nature and theirs and he didn’t even seem to be too worried about his own reason for being there. (Though Orem would, in private, dryly remark to Sekhar that it was probably because he didn’t have to worry about running out of time to deal with it).

So, Orem spent more time above deck. He painted. He steered. Mostly, he listened in on the conversations, only occasionally chiming in himself. He didn’t have much to say on the more  _ philosophical _ topics, at least nothing he wanted to share out loud, but when the conversation circled back to Ket, as it always seemed to eventually do, he would speak up.

Always under the pretense of trying to solve the problem the god was here for, of course. That was how Orem learned that Ket  _ always _ paid back his gambling debts. That wasn’t the unfinished business, nor was it someone Ket felt the need to get revenge on because as it turned out he wasn’t much of a vengeful person to begin with.

Those conversations left Orem with a heavy feeling in his chest at the end of the day, a melancholy that he had only learned these things about Ket after the man was gone. 

The god seemed to be getting more comfortable with  _ them _ as well. Now he would ask them to play games, laughing and saying that it was something every single soul had in common so he’s glad that it stuck. With no stakes, the god actually played  _ worse _ than Ket did, or at least more riskily. Orem almost took a game off of him, and Sekhar actually _ did. _

It brought Orem’s thought back to the story about the Raven Queen, but when he tentatively asked the god if he was letting them win the god would simply smile at them and make some move that would put him decisively in the lead for that round. 

* * *

It was dangerous to grow content with living in such a transitory state. Orem knew he couldn't spend forever not knowing what he wanted to do with himself, couldn’t spend the rest of his days painting the cloudscapes of the astral sea. The first change, the first time the ship pulled into a port or took itself to the feywild, everything would be disrupted. But, for now, Orem clung to this dreamlike reality. Time didn’t matter, in a very real sense given that it had broken down. 

He wanted so badly for things to continue to be how they were, for him not to have to face the world as it was now, that he purposefully ignored the changes the others on the ship were going through. Both Sekhar and the god were slowly growing quieter. The god was in a thoughtful way; maybe he had just run out of questions to ask. Orem much preferred him quietly watching him paint over one shoulder over asking why he was using this brush or that paint.

Sekhar was more agitated, and in fact vocally upset about their lack of progress getting apparently  _ anywhere _ . He had very little in the way of distraction, once even going through every weapon in the Regent's armory to determine that  _ yes _ they were all sharp and well maintained.

(The ship evidently took offense to that, as the next shift Sekhar had at the wheel was spent following rainclouds to keep the man drenched).

Orem supposed he should be the one who would grow antsy at the lack of movement. He  _ was _ interested in how the changes here had affected the feywild, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel it with any real urgency.

And then, as if to spite him for his dispassionate feelings, the next time Orem took the wheel the Regent steered him into a storm as well. 

Not rain this time, but an astral storm. Orem knew only very vaguely of the phenomenon, so when he saw the first streak of bright white fire fall from the sky into some distant patch of sea it raised only curiosity. The next two, confusion. The idea that he was meant to be afraid of this didn’t dawn on him until hundreds more began to appear, streaking across the sky, and the god shot to his feet as he realized what was going on. Orem didn’t feel afraid until he saw that  _ he _ was.

Sekhar stepped out from below decks, asking what was going on just as the first wave hit and sent the Regent sailing at an out of control angle, tilting so far to the side that Orem had to cling to the wheel to keep from falling over. He tried to shout something, but the sound of the storm had quickly grown too intense - the high pitched sounds of fireballs punctuated by the thousands of tiny popping explosions of them hitting the water and exploding into millions of tiny pieces. Another wave hit the ship, this time from the front, and the Regent was at an angle so steep that Orem’s grip on the wheel couldn’t hold and he went tumbling back towards the stern of the ship- catching himself on another railing, but only just.

Orem looked around wildly - Sekhar had managed to get himself back in the cabin enough that the door frame had stopped him from falling, but also looked as though he might come rushing out to grab Orem at any moment. The god, on the other hand, had kept his footing on the deck, but was looking between the two of them with as close a look to worry as Orem had ever seen on him. That made it all the more confusing when, after seeing Orem had not fallen into the astral sea, the god turned and jumped the railing into the sea himself.

If Orem had a moment to worry about that, he might have, but as it was another wave came from behind, and the ship suddenly tilted in the other direction, leading Orem to grab at the wheel again before he could fall too far.

The chaos was so much that Orem didn’t start to register another thing happening until it was strikingly obvious. What looked like a tendril of the astral sea rose next to the Regent, keeping pace with it even as it was buffeted around. What looked like a water spout at first then branched out into a  _ creature _ , a long neck of something stretched over the ship, then one clawed hand reached over the deck and grabbed the other side. 

The thing was in the same moment once a bird and a dragon - huge wings covering the entirety of the boat. And it was a goat, with spiraling horns, and a long-bodied snake. Its form was made of the same stuff as the astral sea, or so it seemed, and never seemed to stay the same thing for longer than a moment, but at the same time remained solid enough to protect the ship from the worst of the waves and the astral rain. 

With the deck more or less straightened out for the moment, Orem took the opportunity to run across to the relative safety of the cabin. But he couldn’t help but look back at the creature for at least a moment as he went, and the strange yellow eye that followed him erased all doubts of just who this creature was.

The storm stopped after only a few minutes, though it took several minutes more for the waves to stop rocking the ship. The only thing on deck when Orem cautiously stepped back out was the god, sprawled out and panting for breath. After only a moment to scan outside for further dangers, Orem walked across the deck as quickly as dignity would allow him, and Sekhar was right on his heels. 

The god pushed himself up as they got to him, looked them both over with a long glance, and then smiled large and genuine, teeth that Orem was sure weren’t as sharp before gleaming.

“You two all right? No astral burns?”

“...None that weren’t there before,” Sekhar’s voice was bewildered, still trying to make the connection between the creature that had ostensibly saved them and the man in front of them.

“Are  _ you _ hurt?” It seemed a silly question to ask, and Orem started to be embarrassed by the question as soon as it slipped from his mouth.

“Not really.”

That wasn’t really an answer, but Orem was a little too frazzled to point it out. And besides, if the god was hurt Orem doubted there was much he could do for him anyway.

The god started to push himself to his feet, accepting the arm offered by Sekhar to help pull himself up the rest of the way.

“So…” Sekhar seemed unsure of how to bring up what the god had just done, not only in a broad sense but for  _ them _ , “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Me neither,” the god admitted.

The god pursed his lips and stalked back over to the railing he had grown so accustomed to leaning on. Sekhar glanced at Orem who shrugged back. They had seen stranger things, there wasn’t much more to say on this one. 

Orem went back to his spot at the wheel, and if the god gazed thoughtfully over the astral sea for the rest of the evening Orem didn’t notice, because he did, too.

* * *

Even that peace didn’t last long. The very next morning Orem was drawn out of his meditation by a new scent. Not of food - the ship had been making them the same potato stew the entire trip - this smell was of forest, of wet earth. The short trip up to the deck confirmed it - the Eventide Regent had finally sailed to the feywild.

They were in some kind of swamp, surrounded on all sides by overhangs of leaves, droplets occasionally falling into the water below. Orem didn’t know this spot, but the brightness of it, and the cool wind that tossed his hair made him sure that this was somewhere in the Spring Wood.

Orem looked around to see if he could spot some sort of settlement, or a place for the Regent to otherwise easily dock. There was nothing immediately obvious which meant that the feeling starting to form in his chest was more anxious than relieved. He still wasn’t sure if he wanted to return to the feywild, or if the feywild wanted  _ him _ , but he couldn't see himself rejecting the idea of going back if the option was presented. For the moment there was no land in sight but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t have to make the decision soon.

The god also seemed anxious, standing in the middle of the deck with his gaze moving around the sky. Rather than focus on his own worries Orem stepped up beside him and looked up in the sky- then, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, looked over to the god.

“...What are you looking at?”

The god’s eyes flicked over to Orem for just a moment before returning to the sky.

“I’m trying to figure out if it’s okay for me to be here,” the god hummed, and then sat down, eyes still fixed on the sky, “I didn’t know I even  _ could  _ leave the astral sea. I guess I can but I also don’t want to get in trouble with Corellon for being here.”

Orem blinked, one hand finding its way to the pockets of his robe. The dark blue gem Corellon had been trapped in was still there. It had fallen from his mind, the Queen’s Irreproachable Voice making it clear that if he was to be freed it would be when Orem saw her again. He supposed the idea was for him to give more thought to it, but he hadn’t done that much at all.

Ever so slowly he pulled the stone from his pocket. Corellon still wandered across its facets over and over again in an endless loop, barely visible inside the dark stone with the way the light was reflecting off of it.

“Oh!” said the god behind him, “I had forgotten about that too. I guess I don't have to worry about it after all.”

Orem didn’t respond, but was acutely aware of the god’s eyes looking over his shoulder at the gem.

“...Can I see it?”

Orem wasn’t sure why he let it happen, but when the god’s hand reached from behind and tugged at the gem he let it go with no resistance. He looked up at the god who was examining the gem with an intense focus - and then, though nothing appeared to have changed, the god nodded and dropped the trapped god back into Orem’s hands. 

Orem looked it over carefully himself but nothing seemed to have changed - the stone was the same, as were the repeated movements of the Corellon inside of it. The god had already lost interest and was already asking Sekhar why he thought the leaves on these trees grew the shape that they did.

Orem stayed on the deck until dusk; the moment the sun set the air around them was filled with tiny fireflies and the sounds of cicadas. There was no sign of the ship coming to a stop, or anything other than the serene swampy waters around them.

It was nice, for a moment.

Then with no apparent cause, the god blurted out, “You know, now that I’m here I think I understand the feywild a lot better. I still don’t think I like it though.”

Orem felt the prickles of annoyance climb up his chest.  _ Of all the things to have inherited from Ket- _

But the god must have caught Orem’s expression and turned to look at him.

“Your friend didn’t like it here because he thought the rules were arbitrary. I can see now that they’re not.” He looked unusually serious. “But they  _ are  _ inflexible. And they pretend very hard not to be.”

Orem opened his mouth to retort, wanting to defend his home but the words died on his lips. Of all of the critiques of the feywild that the god could have made, that one rang true. Even Spud, in all of the chaos he had brought, did not  _ change _ the rules, he simply added more. 

Then the god blinked, and looked sharply around with wide eyes.

“The unfinished business was here.”

Orem looked around too, but the god shook his head and made a broad gesture. 

“ _ Here.  _ The feywild. There was…” the god hesitated, and looked around further like he would find the words he was looking for in the air, “Something here. A promise.”

Orem blinked and looked over at Sekhar. He had been watching the conversation silently but with great interest. But he hadn’t been around when they had been in the feywild and was just as clueless to any promise Ket might have made as Orem was.

The god was still struggling, clearly trying to remember something on the tip of his tongue.

“It was -” the god sighed in annoyance, “A man? A large one. He-”

Orem stared, equally as confused as the god until he brought one hand to his forehead and drew a spiral down the side of his head. Then all at once, it clicked.

“It was Torq.” His voice was steady even if his chest did not feel the same. “Ket must have made a promise to him.”

It must have been an important one to stop a god from ascending, but Ket had never once mentioned something like that. 

A small hope started to bloom inside of Orem, one that was so shaky he felt even acknowledging what it was for might snuff it out. Ket might have made a promise he couldn’t keep, but this god had much more power then Ket had, and things had changed so much...

Torq’s name seemed to have sparked something in the god’s mind because he had pulled himself up to his full height and was looking around not with the flighty curious gaze that was usual for him, but with something very deep and intense. Something that made Orem shiver when it was fixed on him.

“Ket promised… That he wouldn’t leave Torq with the fey.”

Orem stared back, the intense gaze making him feel sick to his stomach, but at the same time, he was unable to pull himself away from it.

The god continued on, slowly, as if he was realizing the things he was saying as he spoke.

“To keep that promise, to fix that, would mean to change the rules of what the feywild  _ is _ . I think… I  _ know _ I could do that.”

With an incredible effort, Orem finally ripped his eyes away from the god’s, letting out a particularly harsh and shaky breath as he did so. But that wasn’t an escape - the god stalked over to him in that predator-like way, squatting down so as not to tower over Orem.

“This place doesn’t like change. But you’re proof it can happen.” The god’s voice was surprisingly soft even as one finger was poked firmly into the middle of Orem's chest. “And it’s your unfinished business too.”

Orem swallowed hard, thousands of thoughts and feelings swirling in his mind. A decision that would affect the whole feywild shouldn’t be made with so little thought, yet he felt as if time was running out. He had felt like he had changed so much that he couldn’t return home, but if  _ home _ changed-

Then the god placed a hand on his shoulder and it felt as though several thoughts clarified themselves all at once. This change, whatever it was, would not bring Torq back, but it  _ would  _ mean that another story like his wouldn’t happen again. And at the same time, there were Asmodeus’ dying words.  _ Die to change. Change to Live. _ If the feywild didn’t change, it would die, eventually, in some horrible way.

The words that found their way out of him were not a refusal of the idea, like he thought they might be, but a very frightened, very earnest question.

“Will it hurt the people who live here? They’ve already been through so much.”

The god looked Orem in the eye again, though not so intense this time.

“It might. If they don't change with it.”

This was more terrifying than going up the tower, prepared to fight a god. Orem had been prepared to die then. This decision probably  _ wouldn’t _ kill him and that was somehow worse.

The god pulled his hand away, stepping back from Orem but keeping his eyes fixed on him.

He didn't realize that the god was leaving the final decision up to him until he said, quietly,

“I think you should do it.”

The god nodded and stood up to his full height again, eyes drifting up to the dark sky but hand extending towards Orem, palm up. Orem knew at once what he was meant to do, and almost as if he were in a trance reached into his pocket, pulled out the gem that contained Corellon and gently placed it in the god’s hand.

The god didn’t look down as he pulled his arm up, he just balled his hand into a fist, tighter and tighter until-

_ Crack _ .

The sound was so small, it might almost have been mistaken for a branch hitting the side of the ship. And there was no wild outshoot of magic - not a visible one at least.

Orem breathed in, and then out, willing his knees to stop shaking.

And  _ then _ it hit him, a feeling like he was falling, a horrible vertigo from inside of himself, though he knew his feet were solidly on the ground. The lights of the fireflies swam and left trails in his vision, the air became impossibly thick and warm and felt as though it wouldn’t go down his throat no matter how hard he tried to breathe it in.

It didn’t hurt, but that was maybe more frightening than if it had. Instead, everything felt muffled and numb and his mind couldn’t process the looks of the others on board as his body hit the deck of the ship.

* * *

When he started to awaken the first thing that Orem felt was just how  _ heavy _ he felt. Not only was he exhausted, but the physical weight of his own body didn’t feel normal. It took what felt like an immense amount of effort to even flex his hand or open his eyes.

He hovered on the edge of consciousness for some time, things slowly entering into his awareness. The cool breeze and warm sun of the Spring Wood were gone, replaced by a colder howling wind and the lap of the astral sea against the side of the ship. His hands rested on the familiar grain of the Eventide Regent, but his head was pillowed on something soft.

When he finally mustered the strength to open his eyes the pillow became apparent. The tall figure of Ket, of the god he had become towered over him, shadowed by light of the rising sun.

He had already noticed Orem stirring, and grinned in Orem’s direction during the entire prolonged process it took for him to get to his feet. 

His limbs were burdensome, so much so that even keeping his head raised felt like an effort, but he managed it. The changes in the feywild had certainly changed him, probably in unexpected ways, but he was still  _ him _ .

“Good to see you survived!” the god said, so easily that Orem had to assume it was a joke and that his death had not been on the table.

And then he said, “I wanted to see you off before I went,” and the numbness returned.

His mouth was too slow to ask ‘what’ but the god read his confusion and pointed one finger outwards. There, low on the horizon, but bright enough to be seen even in the morning light, was a star, one that Orem had never seen before.

“I think I’ve figured myself out. At least enough to earn that.” The god was cheerful, still smiling but there was almost something wistful in his eyes as he stood up. Orem still couldn’t make his mouth say anything, his mind still struggling to catch up.

_ So soon? But… _

“Though there is one more bit of unfinished business,” The god had stood up, now, ready to leave at any moment, “Though this is one that I don't think Ket would have done.”

Without warning, without a moment to process, Orem was swept off his feet, pulled into the air by his waist in a chest-crushing hug. He stumbled onto the ground when he was dropped, only barely registering that the god had walked over and done the same to Sekhar.

Then he said, “Well, I’m sure I’ll see you around, someday!”, laughed, jumped over the railing of the ship, and was gone.

Orem stayed solidly planted where he had fallen on the deck, not quite aware of how much time was passing if it was at all. He hadn’t realized he had been crying until Sekhar sat down next to him and offered a handkerchief, which instead of using he ended up holding in his lap.

So that was that. That was the legacy Ket had left behind, for better or for worse. Orem hadn’t even realized he might want to grieve until the specter of what he had become had gone, and the fact that he had been there at all made it all the more painful.

When he finally managed to pull himself together enough to at least stop and wipe up his face, Sekhar helped him to his feet and down to his cabin where he again collapsed onto the bed. When he finally looked up at Sekhar he could see that he had been crying, too.

But neither of them were the sort to talk about things like that. Instead, Sekhar asked with a hoarse voice if Orem knew where he might want to go.

And despite it all, he still didn’t know.

* * *

Not too much longer after that, the Regent arrived at a tiny fishing town in Diamond Throne. Sekhar told him that he thought time felt right and debarked, taking Ket’s robotic familiar with him. Orem didn’t feel the same, and so they said their goodbyes, Sekhar hugging him just as tightly as the god had before heading down the gangplank.

And Orem remained. The ship sailed, sometimes in the astral sea, or the feywild. Sometimes it would stop and Orem would debark to help solve some problem, but he always found himself drawn back to the Regent. 

In time, he would begin to come to terms with things - with the way the world was now, with how he had caused this to happen. The advice of Drumstick, of all creatures, became that which meditated on most often. People  _ did  _ die, or change beyond recognition, but they had still been important to him, and they still  _ were _ important to him.

(And as if to nail that lesson home, Orem started to receive infrequent but excited Sendings from Little Sparkle as she learned the ritual that he always greatly enjoyed.)

Mostly, he found peace with the idea that change was inevitable, and found, over time, that the idea of the ship leaving him somewhere was not so stressful after all.

Not that he wasn’t surprised when, one foggy morning, he was jolted out of his thoughts by the sound of something scraping against the bottom of the hull.

Peering out through the fog revealed a rather flat, pebbly beach and a tall, blue, horned figure gazing back at him with yellow eyes. Somehow, Orem knew at once that he had finally reached his port.

The god smiled at him as he approached and Orem found himself smiling back.

“I’ve heard that you’ve figured out your portfolio?”

“Some of it.”

News had spread about the god, not least of which was that he was starting to be known as the god of change. Orem felt that it fit him, considering.

The god extended a hand to Orem, palm up.

“Are you here because you’ve changed? Or because you want to?”

Orem reached out to take the god’s hand with his own. It felt like he was letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding for years.

“I think it may be both.”

**Author's Note:**

> Way before season 6 even started I had the idea of "wouldn’t it be neat if Ket became a god" and in my head I really liked the idea of him becoming something like a ‘god of mortals”. Like a god whose point was to keep other gods from harming mortal people too much. Which is not what this Ket/God’s portfolio is (though it influenced how I wrote him), given the ending of the show I think it would also be neat if one of the domains was ‘change’. So that’s what this is?
> 
> I plan to write at least one more fic in this sort-of series, possibly two if I can stay motivated for that long.
> 
> And thanks for reading everyone! This is how I handled the horrible sadness that happened to me post-finale I guess, I hope you’re all doing well.
> 
> Also thanks to Styxxx for beta reading this!


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